Fame, success, popularity, the illusion of being known, admired and
esteemed, appeal in different ways to authors. To Salvador Rueda, glory
is a triumphant entrance into Tegucigalpa, where he is taken to the
Spanish Casino, and crowned with a crown of real laurel. To Unamuno,
glory is the assurance that people will be interested in him at least a
thousand years after he is dead. And to others the only glory worth
talking about is that courted by the French writer, Rabbe, who busied
himself in Spain with la _gloire argent comptant_. Some yearn for a
large stage with pennons and salvos and banners, while others are
content with a smaller scene.
Ortega y Gasset says that to me glory reduces itself to the proportions
of an agreeable dinner, with good talk across the table.
And he is right. To mingle with pleasant, intelligent, cordial persons
is one of the more alluring sorts of fame.
There is something seductive and ingratiating about table talk when it
is spirited. A luxurious dining room, seating eight or ten guests, of
whom three or four are pretty women, one of whom should be a foreigner;
as many men, none of them aristocrats--generally speaking, aristocrats
are disagreeable--nor shall we admit artists, for they are in the same
class as the aristocrats; one's neighbour, perhaps, is a banker, or a
Jew of aquiline feature, and then the talk touches on life and on
politics, relieved with a little gallantry toward the ladies, from time
to time allowing to each his brief opportunity to shine--all this,
beyond doubt, is most agreeable.
I like, too, to spend an afternoon conversing with a number of ladies in
a comfortable drawing room, which is well heated. I visualize the
various rewards which are meted out by fame as being housed invariably
under a good roof. What is not intimate, does not appeal to me.
I have often seen Guimerá in a café on the Rambla in Barcelona, drinking
coffee at a table, alone and forlorn, in the midst of a crowd of shop
clerks and commercial travellers.
"Is that Guimerá?" I asked a Catalan journalist.
"Yes."
And then he told me that they had tendered him a tremendous testimonial
some months previously, which had been attended by I don't know how many
hundreds of societies, all marching with their banners.
I have no very clear idea of just what Guimerá has done, as it is many
years since I have gone to the theatre, but I know that he is considered
in Catalonia to be one of the glories of the country.
I should not care for an apotheosis, and then find myself left forlorn
and alone to take my coffee afterwards with a horde of clerks.
I may never write anything that will take the world by storm--most
probably not; but if I do, and it occurs to my fellow townsmen to
organize one of these celebrations with flags, banners and choral
societies, they need not count upon my attendance. They will not be able
to discover me even with the aid of Sherlock Holmes.
When I am old, I hope to take coffee with pleasant friends, whether it
be in a palace or a porter's lodge. I neither expect nor desire flags,
committees, nor waving banners.
Laurel does not seduce me, and you cannot do it with bunting.